Am I an Author or Prostitute... Who Can Rightly Say?


Do some authors prostitute themselves to make a living creating stories that sell to the masses, rather than writing "their story" directly from the heart? That is the question of the day and one that I've asked myself repeatedly a thousand times.

There are so many stories in me, volumes and volumes of love and loss, spectacular successes and catastrophic failures. I've been there, done that and have the life changing scars to prove it. Then again, who wants to read about me? Romance readers read to escape, don't they?

I'm still a work in progress, experiencing firsthand what it is to have much and most recently, what it means to have little. I've experienced the joy of paying off million dollar lines of credit through sales and the agony of watching a lifetime of investments sell on the "block" for pennies on the dollar.

I've been blamed for everything and I mean everything that has gone wrong since the economy collapsed in 2008, before finally taking my soul in 2012. I've learned firsthand that no one wants to take responsibility for their actions and their blaming me for the real estate debacle, somehow makes them, appreciatively better. I can take it. Besides, what other choice do I have?

I've experienced a lifetime of love gone awry, shattering beautiful dreams and laying in waste a litany of broken lives, specifically my family and friends, including once the apple of my eye.

Again, who wants to read about me? Fortunately, in my travels to remake me, I've found new places across the West and Canada to write about and thankfully stumbled into a breathtaking new love who has rekindled the eternal optimistic romantic troubadour in me. Now, I've started writing novels far outside my old comfort zone. Stories, filled with travel and suspense, sprinkled with more truths than fiction, and yes, bursting at the seams with sex. Lots and lots of sex!

Whew! There, I said it. Sex of all descriptions sells in romantic reads across the world. It surely sells in mine. Am I therefore prostituting myself to make a living? Since I'm writing far outside my genre, I guess I am. Would I be writing this passion laced style if economy had not gone south? I doubt it. But, it is what it is. And since I am living this rebirth first hand, I can write what women are voraciously reading and buying firsthand.

So the next time you pick up a book and are not comfortable with the content, I'd suggest you dig a little deeper into the author's past, before you critically skewer them to the wall. I'm tired of apologizing for the sizzle in my books that screams to get out. Surprisingly, the reviews are good thus far and our stories are selling.

Again to reiterate, I'm giving my all, and then some, to make a living first. Am I a prostitute? Merriam-Webster definition says: a person (as a writer or painter) who deliberately debases his or her talents (as for money.) Hmm, I guess I am. But, if writing action/adventure stories about paying it forward, laced with steamy romance is what sells, count me in. Whatever it takes to put food on the table, gas in my truck and the eventual resources to repay all those we put in Harm's Way, you're welcome to call me anything you want.