"On more than one occasion a practical joke crosses the line into sexual harassment"

After The Independent on Sunday offered advice on how to break into the Mills & Boon market they followed their Blagger's Guide with a headline wondering, 'Have We Fallen Out of Love with Chick-Lit?' It appears a worrying trend has developed in the book-buying business that has little to do with the general decline in book sales, the move to electronic-reading devices or the current worldwide recession that has adversely affected the sales of most items. In fact, this new phenomenon seems to have a whole lot to do with women no longer handing over cash in exchange for a pink novel jacket with drawings of cocktails, stilettos and cupcakes on it. Has the boom gone from the romance market and what horrors does this spell for female purveyors of shallow consumerism, the romantic minority terrified of reality, handsome, arrogant billionaires searching for a bride, or even a Bewildered Heart? Will no one think of us Bewildered Hearts?

According to Bookseller, the people responsible for how and why we sell books, 'Sales of the most recent novels by commercial women's authors are all down by more than 20 per cent on their previous mass-market publications over comparative sales periods. Victims include Marian Keyes, whose latest novel The Brightest Star in the Sky has sold 260,000 copies since February, down 42 per cent on her previous book. Jodi Picoult's Harvesting the Heart is down almost 50 per cent on her previous novel, and Veronica Henry's The Birthday Party recorded a 71 per cent slump to 16,479 copies.' Those books look terrible, but in an enduringly popular way, so what is to blame for this disconcerting plunge, besides the obvious reasons already stated? If the economy was solely responsible then a similar downturn would be noticeable across other genres, yet, 'Women's commercial fiction was under-performing compared to the rest of the book market with the top 20 commercial women's fiction authors down 10 per cent in like-for-like sales for their most recent mass-market title against the previous novel. Overall, the fiction market has fallen by 8 per cent.'

That's a margin of a staggering two per-cent, which we can only assume is enough to warrant an alarmist newspaper report forcing women to give up their literary careers and focus on growing industries, such as debt management. What's the cause of all this? Can we somehow place blame on retail conglomerates who are ultimately to blame for everything? 'The decline has been blamed on a squeeze on supermarket spending, with retailers drastically reducing the number of titles they order and a shift to digital books sales.' While it is easy to credit technology as an explanation, literary experts have an entirely different response, which is immensely uplifting, as analysis from literature scholars always is. 'Literary experts believe that readers are rejecting the identically-jacketed "sex, shoes and shopping" tales pushed by publishers in favour of more complex, psychologically-ambitious novels by women writers.' There you are, the future of romance is complexity and psychological-ambition. You heard it here eventually.

The reaction from authors of sex, shoes and shopping stories was immediate and predictable. While they do tend to write about sex, shoes and shopping, they do so in a complex and psychologically-ambitious way, so they shouldn't be considered chick-lit writers and therefore their sales cannot have slumped. The article quotes Eithne Farry, the literary editor of Marie Claire magazine (Search fruitlessly for Marie Claire's literary section here), who blames patronising marketing campaigns. 'Chick lit has become a derogatory term. I'm surprised when I see that a lot of books are sold in covers with shoes and cupcakes because often the subject matter of the book inside isn't frothy and frivolous.' Furthermore, says The Independent on Sunday, 'The backlash against "chick lit" resulted in the author Polly Courtney publicly dropping her publisher, HarperCollins, in protest at the "condescending and fluffy" sleeves they had chosen for her books.' But why ruin such a good thing, Polly Courtney? 'The implication with chick-lit is that it's about a girl wanting to meet the man of her dreams.' This narrow-minded implication was not enough for Courtney's aspirations as she saw herself belonging to an alternative market where the covers have a multitude of colour options and a vast library of potential photographs. Her new book is entitled It's a Man's World and deals with social issues such as sexism in the workplace, thus alleviating it above books about love to the real concerns of society.

Of course, chick-lit is a genre of fiction written by and for women, the term itself was coined in the 1980s as the literary equivalent of the chick-flick, a motion picture genre typically about women meeting their ideal man, or occasionally about women on cross-country crime sprees that end in empowering suicide to a rock anthem. The books are best-served by the occasional generous review, which claim novels such as Something Borrowed, or Bridget Jones' Diary by Helen Fielding, 'explore the conflict between the independence enjoyed by young, professional singletons and the emotional security offered by a partner.' Any book can be written up to sound socially-conscious, but romance fiction has often declared itself content to satisfy a reader yearning for light entertainment and a happy ending, such as Robertson Davies in one of his moods.

Here is a genre defined by the lazy way it is marketed rather than the lazy way much of it is written. During its heyday the publishing companies saw a blossoming market and followed a carefully-constructed advertising campaign that has proven successful ever since. Was this success born out of the time, the neurotic, but financially-prosperous nineties and naughts? Now the public have retained their neuroses, but their money has disappeared and the world suddenly seems psychologically-complex. Should publishers find a way to cash-in on this current sense of doom and insolvency? As we have learnt from our years of Mills & Boon research the author is often as powerless over cover, picture and publicity as the likes of Polly Courtney, so for the writers themselves what will be the next step, and may we discover this failure brings about a blessing disguised as a cupcake hidden inside a stiletto?

As Kathy Lette points out, 'Men who write first person, social satire, like Nick Hornby and David Nicholls and co, are compared to Chekhov. While women authors get pink covers and condescension.' While this is likely the first time Hornby and Nicholls have ever been favourably mentioned in the same sentence as Chekhov, there remains a double standard in the manner with which authors of modern fiction are sold to the public. Those writing 'first person, funny, feminist fiction' have been relegated to a sneered-at niche of women writing about women for women, often using alliteration. Seeking a remedy Lette senses an opportunity within this decline in sales. 'Many 'chick lit' books are just Mills & Boon with Wonderbras, with the heroines waiting to be rescued by a knight in shining Armani. So, perhaps, in this economic downturn, a creative cull may ensure that only literary lionesses prevail.'

How a Mills & Boon novel would differentiate depending on the quality of its breast-supporting undergarment might remain a mystery until Kathy Lette writes a frothy comedy on the subject, but perhaps this crisis might lead to a revaluation of the wider genre, allowing writers to escape the trappings of their publicists, and the end of second-rate story-telling that has caused the tarnishing of chick-lit since its critical and commercial pinnacle? Beyond that, Lette has asked for the genre to be renamed clit-lit, although what this refers to Bewildered Heart has no idea. Instead, we would call for the end of superficial labelling altogether and merely a new construction of literature separated arbitrarily by the novel's bra-size. Therefore most Mills & Boon's would not be Wonder-Bras, but instead high-street lingerie; frivolous, good-looking, but likely to fall apart under close scrutiny.

"How could a woman with thighs that still ached be so totally entranced by a glance?"

By the time Bewildered Heart had struggled through the initial one hundred pages of Under the Millionaire's Influence we finally found the good stuff, where the hero and heroine, despite constantly vowing not to sleep with each other for the good of themselves and their relationship, could no longer resist the temptation of a quickie in the passenger seat of a rental car. What the scene lacked in eroticism it more than made up for with phallicism, overwrought emotional epiphanies and a succinct conclusion. With The Millionaire's Indecent Proposal the reader need only wait seventy pages before Franco is reaching for the condoms and nonchalantly accusing his latest conquest of carrying a sexually-transmitted disease, the charmer. In the many Harlequin Mills & Boons we have endured only a small minority, The Playboy of Pengarroth Hall and The Dad Next Door, featured no sex scenes, while many, including Wild Child and The Millionaire's Indecent Proposal, seemed to contain nothing but.

Which leads us to ask the necessary question, what makes for an enjoyable, enticing literary sex scene and can Mills & Boon themselves offer up a list of helpful ideas to guide us through it, as we nervously fumble for the right words and how they are supposed to fit together? Why yes, and who better than Flo Nicoll to let the gals at Romance HQ in on all the dirty secrets. 'Mills & Boon books promise readers the ultimate in female fantasies – from marrying your childhood sweetheart to a night of multiple simultaneous orgasms with a gorgeous stranger.' It is either or, romance readers, so choose wisely. 'A great love scene is unputdownable – emotional, sexy, and exciting. But a bad sex scene can be the kiss of death for your story, and your characters – how can we fall in love with your hero if his between-the-sheets behaviour fails to satisfy?' Perhaps he was exhausted from making billions of pounds, being kind to children and respecting and adoring the only woman for him. There sure is a lot of pressure on the modern heroic man, the last thing he needs is a heroine constantly wondering if prostitution is somehow sullying her principles and refusing him the opportunity to work his magic, and then once he forces himself upon her using magnetic eye contact and height she finds the nerve to criticise his performance...

So, when it comes to throwing together a firework display in a bedroom, what are the proverbial rockets and Catherine wheels? To continue this already strained analogy a sparkler would be emotionality. 'Good love scenes happen within the emotional development of the relationship, and can be a key turning point for the couple. Use sensual encounters as an opportunity to delve into the emotional reactions of your characters, particularly the heroine.' As with any other element of your novel therefore make sure what you write has meaning and value. Sex for the sake of sex is unnecessary, according to Nicoll and the general consensus of women in the real world. Lust has no depth and mental connection must be developed through an appropriate amount of intimate conversations and meals. Thus, fornication should only be used to advance the story, as a couple moves from a man and a woman who were not having sex to a couple who now are, or a former couple who used to have sex and stopped transition back to the couple they were once again. The latter structure sounds more complex than it actually is.

Thus we learn to use love scenes for their narrative necessity, while being careful to avoid pornographic gratuity that derails the pacing of the drama. What other suggestions does Nicoll offer for penning sex scenes that actually apply to all elements of writing? 'Don’t be afraid to leave details to the imagination: in some of the hottest books, the actual consummation scene is only a paragraph.' See, good sex does not always have to last thirty pages. There is nothing embarrassing about only lasting a paragraph and then ending the chapter by writing, 'Goodnight.' A pithy footnote will suffice, as no one wants to read a meticulous description of every thrust. Just as satisfying is the simple use of phrases such as repeatedly, or until he was finished. 'Remember, nothing you write on the page will be nearly as erotic as what your readers can dream up… particularly if they read a lot of romance!' You know what your audience wants and why they want it, but bear in mind they are only after skilful touches, sultry insinuations, not full-blown explicitness, because they can take care of themselves once you have set the mood. They're not perverts.

'A beautiful sex scene can easily be ruined by the less sexy aspects of sex – disposal of condom, wiping down the heroine, even (I can’t quite believe I’m typing these words) the dreaded wet spot. It may be realistic, but it’s also a massive mood killer.' Yes, as with in reality realism destroys the beauty of everything. Still, an author is better off simply ending the scene at a civilized point, rather than pretending that these things just do not happen to gorgeous Greek tycoons and their spellbound virginal mistresses. Of course, do not allow Nicoll's shallow logic to stop you from attempting to make the disposal of a condom, the wiping down of the heroine or the wet spot romantic, sexy or a combination of the two. Just because everyone else has failed it does not mean you couldn't be the first to make post-coitus the must-read part of the Mills & Boon experience. Soon enough Harlequin fans will be demanding every Modern Romance contains an erotic wiping down of the heroine sequence.

Typically of a female journalist Flo Nicoll waits until after we have dealt with condom disposal before explaining the significance of foreplay. 'Don't forget the importance of kissing and touching! Lips, neck and ears, lower back, inner thighs and forearms etc. Because, not to get too personal, but isn’t it the men who move in straight for the grope – boobs and below – that are the biggest turn-off?' Anticipation is key for getting both heroine and reader in the right mind for literary loving. Keep your characters exchanging provocative, innuendo-based dialogue before they get down to the nitty-gritty of forearm-touching, and below-boob-groping. Readers prefer to experience the passion of the encounter, believing hero and heroine have taken a giant step towards their eventual happy ending and have furthered their eternal devotion through a paragraph's worth of physical unity.

While it is all well and good being told what makes for marvellous sex, and Bewildered Heart has learnt an awful lot admittedly, there is little in the way of technical advice in Nicoll's column. For example, when word-painting a romantic boob-grope, or a tender, moonlit condom-disposal should we, the author, censor the more colourful words and search the internet for suitable synonyms? 'The less flowery the descriptions, the better. Sometimes you just need to be able to call an erection an erection – not always a throbbing member/hard shaft etc! We’re not talking graphic descriptions of the porno variety but don’t shy away from being direct – after all, what’s the point in writing about something you’re not comfortable describing?' There you have it, gentle reader, no more euphemisms such as 'boobs and below' when the writer is referring to a lady's heavenly warmth. From now on, use depictions you are relaxed about using, and never again will a reader giggle, blushing because she knows when you wrote throbbing and hard you really meant erect.

'Let’s spare a thought for the hero who can’t control near-constant hard-ons… Everyone loves a virile hero, but this lack of control over his body risks making him seem juvenile, not jaw-droppingly hot! A little manly restraint can go a long way, ladies.' Writers should know well enough already not to base their heroes on fourteen year old boys, internet bloggers, or men in general, instead drawing the fine line between sexual prepotency and erectile dysfunction. A doting smile, or a fleeting, electrically-charged touch of the hands, a brief bout of gentle neck-nuzzling, the heroine's parade across the Olympic-sized swimming pool in a risqué bikini, or hearing a tragic sob-story concerning unresolved father issues should not result in a twitch in the trousers or a guttural feeling of arousal. No, the hero should react to these events with disdain and indifference, thus garnering the favour of women even further.

Finally, let us pretend there was an award for most annoying cliché found in a literary sex scene, what would that be, Flo Nicoll? 'The booby prize goes to the heroine’s instant nipple hardening/ tightening/ peaking/ pebbling on seeing the hero! (After two years at Romance HQ, I am well on my way to developing a complex because this doesn’t happen to me on a regular basis).' Now, either Nicoll has a severe lack of sensitivity in her nipples, her brain emotionally connects to elsewhere on her body, or the pebbling of nipples is something that does not happen to the world's women. If so, what other options are open to an author when wishing to demonstrate her heroine's stimulation, besides eyelid-fluttering or accepting money in exchange for sexual compliance? Nicoll has no ideas, but perhaps aspiring female writers could use this opening to invent a new language for sensuality, creating compelling euphemisms, more imaginative acts for their couples, discovering more realistic ways to portray desire and no longer viewing sex as a contractual requirement for Harlequin novels, instead properly lacing intimacy into their narratives. For those wanting less sex try Cherish, more sex there is Spice and for the same amount, but with the added benefit of Nicoll's unhelpful demonstration of how it has always been there remains Mills & Boon.

"He couldn't imagine a simple coat of paint could chase away his father's gloomy taint"

Some readers may find it difficult to believe but there remains a dismissive attitude towards romance fiction, despite the best work of Mills & Boon, publishing those thousands upon thousands of books, and Bewildered Heart, for we also try in our own captious way. Much like this beloved weblog there are others taking the fight to the critics who argue that the romance genre is formulaic, sexist, tawdry, clichéd, stereotypical, worthless, dumb, and written by bored housewives for pathetic idiots with unrealistic expectations of men, love and life. Without any evidence to back those statements up they still sound legitimate, so thank goodness for Australian author Anne Gracie, who wishes to stop this completely reasonable scorn with a dignified, finely-considered retort.

First of all, a popular misconception is that there exists a Mills & Boon Formula setting forth, in detail, exactly what an author must do and when to do it, yet says Gracie, 'There is not and never has been "a formula". Nor are there computer generated plots or any nonsense like that.' Mills & Boon do have guidelines which explain the differences between their many subgenres, but the guidelines merely state the preferred length of the novel, the tone, and the sexual content. 'Apply a little logic to The Formula: HM&B publishes more than 50 new titles each month. They've been doing that for more than 50 years. If there was a kiss on page 28 or a sex scene in chapter 5 of every book, do you think readers would keep buying, month after month, year after year?' Gracie may be over-estimating her overly-derided readership, but she is in no mood to contemplate the accusation that romances are blandly predictable and all the same, but their lack of drama and comforting trustworthiness are fundamental to their appeal.

For the sake of doing so, however, let us challenge that second myth anyway. Not all romantic fiction is the same. 'They are the same in that each story has a relationship between a man and a woman at its heart, and a satisfying ending, but it's like chocolate -- we all know what chocolate tastes like, but there are also many different kinds of chocolate and many ways to present and eat it. And people return time and time again to their favourite.' So, if it is good enough for chocolate then it is good enough for art. Romance novels can change the names of their characters and set each tale in a different location, and even go as far as to use different words to describe the same acts and emotions, but deep down they are stories printed on paper and they are successful and people keep buying them, so why should we bother analysing anything as if it's broken?

Next. 'Myth #3— they're soft porn for women. I don't know how many times I've heard critics of romance read out salacious passages from a sexy M&B. I dare say I could pick out passages from almost any novel and mock it out of context. Cheap laughs.' Yes, what kind of bastard uses out of context sentences from a Mills & Boon for an easy joke? 'The focus of a romance is not the sex but the relationship. In any case, how many of us would say that sex played no part in our relationships? If sex belongs anywhere, it's in a romance.' Exactly, Anne Gracie, and what would soft porn be without sex?

Against a standard criticism of paper-thin characters and simplistic writing style, Gracie argues, 'In every genre, there are novels that are clichéd and poorly written, and some books that are wonderfully written with unforgettable characters and prose that sings. Romance is no different. It's a huge genre, with an enormous range and variety. Don't judge a whole genre by a few books.' There is no conclusive proof that there is an inherent flaw in romantic fiction that causes every example to be typically base, shallow and amateurish. Gracie admits that romance is entertainment and should not be confused with literary fiction, which no one finds entertaining. People are stupid, she implies, somewhat caustically, and it is the public, not the authors, who are responsible for the shortcomings in every genre. We cannot help it if you are fools who have no idea what is good for you. Gracie goes on to include a quote from Robertson Davies, 'It is dangerous to condemn stories as junk which satisfy the deep hunger of millions of people. These books are not literary art, but a great deal of what is acclaimed as literary art in our time offers no comfort or fulfillment to anybody.' Therefore, cheer up, undiscerning masses, you are not entirely at fault. Talented authors writing great works of art should share the blame.

'Romance is for dumb or pathetic women. Yeah, and crime novels are for repressed murderers and violent types with a taste for necrophilia. And science fiction is for sad geeks who dress badly and have no grip on reality. And thrillers are for people who live dull, restricted lives. And people who read Literature are pretentious snobs.' You go, girl! Call those crime novel enthusiasts out for their secret fantasies. What kinds of sexual deviancies do you imagine Point Horror fans are into? 'There's nothing pathetic about wanting to read books that celebrate love. There's nothing dumb about reading books that makes you feel good at the end.' Indeed. Gracie has successfully countered Gracie's claims that Gracie is desperate and ignorant. Still, she has become so angry at these hurtful remarks she should probably stop making them up in the first place. Be that as it may, her statement does require a little further exploration because crime novels can be enjoyed by murderers with healthy attitudes, and even well-dressed nerds may find science-fiction is for them.

Therefore, is romance only suitable for dumb, pathetic people, or solely targeted at women of varying degrees of stability and intelligence? Does the genre render their fans pathetic and dumb, or do pathetic and dumb readers seek the genre out? Romance is seen as a woman's market, presumably because men are too cerebral for such simple pleasures. However, no one could possibly turn unsubstantiated fury into feminist tirade. 'In past centuries it was claimed that women should not be taught to read because they had small brains and the poor dears couldn't cope with all the extra learning. In the Victorian era men were warned not to let their womenfolk read because novels brought about a spiritual and moral decline in the feeble female constitution. And caused them to neglect their housework.' Still, men let it happen and look where we are today. Some women do no housework at all, instead endlessly reading romance novels, unable and unwilling to discern real from fantasy and causing fanatical medical health professionals to blame romance fiction for many of our modern psychological problems. Now, at least, we know where all this tragedy began, if only Gracie would give up the sources of her historical anecdotes.

As for filling women's heads with unrealistic expectations of life, 'Do science fiction novels make people believe the aliens are coming? Do crime novels cause people to murder? Do fantasy novels make us believe we can fly or perform magic?' Well, those examples may be as illogical as they are irrelevant, but causing females to believe love exists wreaks destruction our therapists just cannot keep up with, and is far more serious than watching the skies or wearing spectacles and waving a wand in restaurants. 'Some of the grittier, more "real life" romances often portray people coping with difficulties many women cope with — illness, divorce, death, career crises, elderly parents, problems with children , and so on. No easy solutions are presented.' As we have discovered through our reading and critiquing of the genre, no real life difficulty is a match for a wedding and the patter of tiny feet, as problems quickly disappear once the happy couple declare their love at the end, and this all-defeating power of love is the key selling point of the romance genre. Therefore, authors do themselves a disservice to argue both sides, as once you had Robertson Davies backing you up, and now you are suggesting romance occasionally offers depth beyond shallow fantasy. Clearly someone has been listening to the critics they claim to be ignoring.

There remain two myths that require dispelling, now that we have so easily dispelled the initial eight. Most importantly of all, writing romance fiction is not as straight-forward as one may think from reading romance fiction and concluding that anyone could do that. 'Even Harlequin Mills and Boon, that urban myth claims is so easy to 'crack', receive 20,000 unsolicited manuscripts each year from all over the world. They contract perhaps 30 new writers.' If by some miracle your work is selected do not expect money for jam. In fact, contrary to popular belief while there are financial rewards for succeeding in the most widely-lucrative genre of fiction the world has ever known there is no guarantee you will see any of that cash. Advances are small, and royalties are made up of a tiny percentage of the book's cover price. While Gracie ends her article with a glowing reference of romance fiction for both writers and readers, there are easier ways to make money, for example any job besides author. Passion fuels this career rather than the financial proceeds, so those thinking Mills & Boon is the way to make a quick, easy fortune are well-advised to try elsewhere. We fans can sense the cynicism within the opening sentences, and if there was ever an antithesis of romance it would be cynicism, as Bewildered Heart continues to discover to its benefit.