Are Men Incapable Of Writing Romance? KevaD Speaks Out.

Today it’s my pleasure to welcome the multi talented KevaD to give his take on a question burning up the loops of late about male authors and romance.

Q) I've heard recently that some reviewers believe men are incapable of writing romance. I personally think this statement is ludicrous. Do you have any thoughts on this topic?

A) Yeah…I do.

Gender bias exists on a number of levels within the world of writing, and I find that so sad. Some women don’t think men can write romance, some men don’t think women can write action/adventure, suspense, or thriller. Some gays don’t believe women can write about two men. I’ve encountered female MM authors who don’t think I, being a heterosexual male, should write MM stories. Talk about hypocrisy in action. Anyway, the lists of biases go on and on.

Ironically, this bias doesn’t just cause some readers to miss out on many superb books, but causes a few writers to don opposite gender personas. Leigh Greenwood has twenty-nine hugely successful romance novels to his gender balanced name. Bestselling Jennifer Wilde is really Tom E. Huff. The shit hit the fan when Jennifer’s true identity became known. Michael Little is an RWA chapter president, multi-published author, and a man, as are SL Carpenter, JW McKenna, and Chris Tanglen. That list goes on and on as well.

On the opposite side of the coin, we find names like Jamie Freveletti writing bestselling action/adventure thrillers, and being referred to as “he” when Jamie is a woman. NYT Bestselling author PJ Parrish, creator of the Louis Kincaid and Joe Frey thriller series, is actually two sisters. CE Lawrence, who authors serial killers…is the pen name of a female writer. These ladies aren’t alone in the public assumptions, whether they be or not be orchestrated to that end, that they are men.

In the MM genre, if the author uses initials, the current assumption is the author must be a woman and the bias door swings open once again.

Sadly, bias isn’t limited to gender, but race and whatever else narrow minded people can find to discriminate with.

The bottom line is, the narrow minded are the ones losing out on wonderfully written stories. Unfortunately, some of those same individuals are the first to speak up on how the above authors I’ve mentioned are incapable of doing, because of their gender, what in fact they have made careers doing. Even more unfortunately, in the last month I’ve seen three romance review sites proclaim how men can’t write romance, and even an e-book editor commented recently on how she can spot any story written by a man.

Right. Sure she can.

Jeez, people….Get a life….And a brain.

What fricking difference does it make? Reading is about enjoying the story. At least it should be. And where did we get the idea that bias and discrimination isn’t acceptable, except when it comes to authors? I’d wager that if authors used numeric identifications instead of names, very few people would ever be able to guess the gender, race, religion, and nationality of the majority of authors.

And if you are about to say, “I could,” then the CIA and law enforcement as whole are looking for you, because the greatest handwriting analysts in the world don’t always get it right. Call them. They have a job waiting for you. You’ll even have an office all by yourself because you’re one of a kind.

On a parallel side issue, very, very few readers “require” an author to have actually visited the location, domestic or foreign, in which a story takes place. Yeah. The readers are in it for the story, for the thrills, love, and excitement of whatever genre and location in which the story occurs.

And that’s exactly how it should be.

H.C. Well said.

The first romance I read was  Fanny Hill written by a man by the name of John Cleland,  followed closely by Moll Flanders by Daniel Defoe both written in the 18C, my favorite historical period. So, way back men were stamping their mark as great authors of erotic romance.  I could quote a whole list of wonderful authors I’ve enjoyed reading over the years. In my writing career, I’m often mistaken for a man and honestly, I take this as a compliment.

I read stories I enjoy and I usually end up reading every book that author has written regardless of gender. The fact that a reader can enjoy a story no matter who is on the other end of the pen is the mark of a good author.

I welcome your comments.

KevaD has a wonderful new ROMANCE book out today, I highly recommend you put  Kantu’s Heart on your TBR list. Here are the details and an excerpt to tempt you.

Title: Kantu’s Heart

Release Date: 13 June 2012

Author: KevaD

Author Website: www.kevad.net

Publisher: Decadent Publishing

BuyLink: 

Genre : Romance, Suspense, Time Travel

Blurb: Before the ice age, warrior Kantu lost his tribe, his mate Sanda, and his life to a vicious band of cannibals led by his most powerful enemy. He awakens in a world beyond his comprehension only to find his mate in the arms of her killer. Misery and strength meld into one goal—to win back his heart and kill his enemy.

With a nudge from her gentle guardian, Sandra Harn travels to Freewill, WY, looking for bargains at the annual rummage sale and, hopefully, answers to her mysterious past. Once there, visions of a time before the town existed make her question her sanity. When an exotic stranger with flowing raven hair and a body she can’t resist tries to kill her companion, logic tells her to run, but her heart and body have other ideas.

Excerpt.

Sanda’s gaze dropped to Kantu’s chest. He glanced at his shirt hanging on a fence post and hoped his skin would not offend her in this world where everyone covered their bodies.

“How did you get those scars.” Her hand started to reach out to him; she jerked it back and folded her arms under her bosom. Her nipples dotted the pink of her shirt. Sanda raised her arms to conceal the delicate rises of flesh he had sucked and licked once upon a time gone by.

A cloud of sadness dampened his eyes. He breathed deep to try and clear his mind of the memory of her breasts, their taste and feel in his mouth, the wetness between her thighs when he entered her, the tightness of his sac before his seed flowed. He grimaced and turned his back to her.

“Did I say something wrong?” Her voice trembled. “I’m sorry if I did.”

“No,” he said in a constricted breath. “It is not you. The scars are the mark of a warrior. My father dragged a claw across my body three times - one for each man I killed my first time in battle.”

“Are you serious? You killed three men? Were you in the army or something?”

He clamped his lips together. His eyes burned, and a tear streaked down his face. This Sanda did not know him at all.

“No.” Her voice softened to a tuft of air. “You weren’t. I know that. I just don’t know how I know that.” A barely audible sigh sounded behind him. “I sometimes see the forest at the MGR before it existed, when it was an open plain. One night the whole town melted into nothing, and I was alone with grass all around me. I could feel the dew on each blade.”

Her fingers touched his shoulder, her natural, wild scent floated into his nostrils. He rested his cheek on the back of Sanda’s hand. Sparks of desire flickered through him, a longing to be held by his mate, his heart, quivered in his chest and arms.

“I know you, don’t I?” A tremor vibrated from her fingers into his shoulder.

He lifted her hand to his cheek and turned to face her. Her eyes shone like summer rain as her gaze drifted back and forth as if searching for something she believed might be found in his eyes, but couldn’t quite see.

“Yes,” he whispered.

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