OK, so I’m totally shit at this biographical stuff, which is why I’m happy I have all these reader-submitted questions to answer.
Is any book - romance or otherwise - deserving of a SmartBitch grade of A+? And like what would it take to get an A+?
Oh yes, definitely. For romance novels, Laura Kinsale, Loretta Chase, Patricia Gaffney and Jennifer Crusie have gotten A+ grades from me. Non-romance: Dan Simmons, Barry Unsworth, Rudyard Kipling, Thomas Hardy, C.S. Lewis, Tim Winton, Pat Barker, Jonathan Franzen and various others have written what are, in my opinion, A+ books as well. My list is long, not because I’m not picky, but because up until a few years ago I was a voracious reader and went through loads and loads of books a year. Now that I have a car and can’t read during my commute any more, my pace has slowed way, way down.
As for what it takes for a book to get an A+: I have to love the way it’s written, I have to love the plot, and I have to believe in the characters. It’s shocking how many books fail significantly on at least one (if not all three) fronts.
There’s no feeling quite like reading an A+ book; I’m euphoric for days afterwards, and I’ll think about the book at odd times of the day for months (sometimes years) on end.
Aside from ID and a book to read, what is one thing you won’t leave home without?
My Sprunt. Oh, and my keys.
If you were a Chick Lit heroine, which shoe brand would you obsess over?
Prada. In reality, though, I shop at discount outlets like Ross, and I kinda like the teen-whore look of Candies and the faux-retro stylings of John Fluevog (who has designed some truly hideous shoes, but his Pin-Up line is mostly sexy and girly and fabulous).
If you were a chick lit heroine, what alcoholic beverage would you abuse?
Raspberry kamikaze. (Note: Because I’m allergic to alcohol, I don’t drink, so I have NO IDEA what goes into a raspberry kamikaze or if a raspberry kamikaze is even possible. I just think that a) it sounds cool; b) it sounds like a nice, strong drink; and c) it sounds yummy and froo-froo girly.)
Are you guys going to write a book? Like, SMART BITCHES GUIDE TO ROMANCE NOVELS, vol. 1?
Ooooh, a tempting idea. Hmmmm.
Are you two aspiring authors?
Up until two weeks ago, I would’ve said “Are you NUTS?” That’s because I’ve always hated my fictional voice. However, one of the stories I’ve been playing in my head (one about a young woman’s sexual awakening) began to bug me so much I actually began to dream about it. I took that as a sign to start writing the goddamn thing down. And you know, while I still don’t think my fictional voice is all that great, I’m not actively hating it the way I used to. Either I’m becoming delusional in my old age, or something within has aligned and I’m starting to do certain things right.
And then right on the heels of the first story came ANOTHER story idea, equally strong, but completely different from the first story (which I fondly refer to as Regency Smut). It started with a very clear vision of a character: a young man, sardonic, lonely, heavily tattooed, pierced, who worked the graveyard shift in an independent video store. Basically a punk-ish hipster guy (of which there are many fine specimens in Portland.) Then I realized he owned the store, but nobody knew he did. Then I realized he was actually a vampire. The plot just gets more squirrelly from there.
But as for whether I’m aiming for actual publication, or whether I want to do this full-time, or whether this will fulfill a lifelong dream: I have to admit I’m pretty hesitant about it all. First of all, writing full-time won’t pay the bills (no stars in my eyes about being the next breakthrough bestselling sensation). Second of all, I have to admit I enjoy the complete freedom I currently have. If I think a book sucks the big hairy nut, I can have at it without fear of being blackballed; if by some miracle I do end up published, certain parts of Smart Bitches will probably have to fundamentally change, and I’d hate to see that. Third of all, writing and research involve hard, hard work, and right now I’m dipping my toes to see how I like it before diving in.
So for right now, I’m pretty sure I’m going to offer Regency Smut as a free download for y’all to check out and rip apart once I’m done with it. Yes, I like my humiliation to be public and at my own expense. I’ll keep writing fiction for a while and see how it turns out. I have no expectations at this point; I’m just aiming to have a lot of fun and inflicting my glorious prose on the unsuspecting public with free downloads. Though of course, if someone wants to approach me and offer me a six-figure deal for writing the many years’ worth of crazy-ass stories I have in my head, I’ll be happy to jump on board.
Will you ever reveal the URL of your old web sites? Or shall I?
Money’s on the way, Maili, in a plain brown envelope and non-sequential bills, just like you asked.
If you could only ever read one other blog, which one would you read?
Ahhhhh! No! Don’t make me choose! That’s just cruel.
OK, fine. I’ll be all lame and choose, well, us Smart Bitches.
Hardback, trade or mass paperback?
I honestly don’t care at all. If it’s a book I really, really love, I tend to seek out the first edition, whatever form that took (usually hardcover in non-romance, MMPB for romance). Trade paperbacks are cool because the local library doesn’t stock many MMPBs at all.
Of which authors are you fangirls?
Laura Kinsale, Loretta Chase, Jennifer Crusie, Patricia Gaffney, Barbara Samuel/Ruth Wind.
Why do you swear so much?
Mostly because I think it’s funny, especially when Sarah and I get creative and say shit like “buttweasels.” (Heh heh. Buttweasels.) I also think that if I feel really strongly about something, saying “Goddamn, this scabies-infested piece of shit needs to get a clue” conveys the message much more effectively than “Oh gosh I really disagree with this nitwit.” In other words: purely a stylistic choice that amuses me and accurately reflects the way I talk in real life.
I also blame it on my parents. The two of them have the most vile potty-mouth, especially my mom when she’s startled.
What other genres do you like to read most?
I answer this question in great and tiresome detail in Maili’s interview of me.
Boxers, briefs, or commando? And on your men?
Me: Commando. Was there ever any doubt?
On my men: boxers.
What’s your favorite romantic movie? Romantic comedy? Nonromantic movie?
Romantic Movie: Update!Say Anything has completely toppled Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind from the top spot. Sorry, Charlie Kaufman; Cameron Crowe and John Cusack were just impossible to resist. I’m not a big romantic comedy fan; I guess if I had to pick, I’ll go with Some Like it Hot, which is sweet and funny and has Jack Lemmon in drag, which is so freakin’ awesome. And as for non-romantic movie: You got a couple of hours? A few titles that come to mind immediately are Donnie Darko, Igby Goes Down, Ninja Scroll, Yojimbo, Requiem for a Dream, Dead Poets Society, Trainspotting, Pulp Fiction....
Do you have a favorite subgenre of romance? If so, what is it/are they?
I love medievals. Love love love them. Unfortunately, they’re pretty hard to find nowadays, and they also tend to kind of suck as a general rule. But when they’re good, they’re so amazing, like For My Lady’s Heart or Bed of Spices.
If the magic book goddess were to gift you with 3 of your favorite books while stuck in, a) wall to wall traffic b) on the subway between stops-naturally you have a booklight & extra batteries- or c) while waiting for the Titanic to sink, what 3 books would the book goddess give you?
The answers to (a) and (b) would be the same: Hyperion, The Fall of Hyperion and The Windflower. Nothing like adventurous SF and epic romance to get me through some shit-ass waiting.
The answer to (c): Well, knowing I’m probably going to die in a short while is going to suck, so I’ll go with favorite childhood novels because I’ll need the cheering up, plus they’re quick reads. The Jungle Book, The Phantom Tollbooth and The BFG. Nothing like reading about a giant who farts as I’m about to go under. Ahhhh.
Pepsi or Coke?
I’m one of those freaks who cannot tell the difference between any of the cola brands.
What kind of bribe would it take for you to proclaim that Cassie Edwards Rules The World?
A big one. I’m talking “taking care of me for the rest of my life and paying for a second college education” big. I’m bribeable, but I’m not cheap.
What is the single most embarassing book that you could admit to loving (and really do love?)
Romance: Tonight or Never by Dara Joy. Holy cow, that book is SO BAD. But love it. Love it to pieces. Re-read it periodically for the sheer over-the-top silliness and good-natured fun it provides.
Non-Romance: Anything from the Dragonlance series. Christ, those books are embarrassing. But I love them. I want to re-read them in the worst way.
What’s your favorite cheese? (cheese and romance cliché)
Edible cheese: I’m so boring with my cheese preferences. Stanky gourmet cheeses make me want to hurl. I have yet to forgive my French friend, Edouard, for force-feeding me extremely ripe camembert that one time. Fuckin’ French bastards and their stank-ass cheese.... Anyway, I love Colby-Jack. Not sure if it’s available elsewhere or whether it’s a Pacific NW kind of a thing, but we have a local dairy co-op known as Tillamook and they make some truly tasty cheese, yo.
Readable cheese: I love me a good pirate romance. And I like ‘em kind of over-the-top too. Are the heroes shirtless? Do they swash? Do they buckle? Do they wave cutlasses around and stomp and yell unintelligible orders to their crew about hoisting the mizzenmast and avasting their hearties? I’m there.
What’s your favorite freeway?
I-5. Takes me to work (boo!), takes me back home (yay!).
If you had to be any one TSTL heroine, which one would you be, and why?
The one who gets the hero with the really, really big cock.
If you could beat any TSTL heroine to a bloody pile of fawning, swooning whimper, who would it be, and can I help?
Ooof. This is hard. After some contemplation, I have to say Lee-Lee, heroine of the Worst Book of All Time, Desire’s Blossom by Cassie Edwards, deserves a thorough and brutal beating. And sure, you can help. Bring your steel-toed boots. Yee haw!
Okay, if your favorite author came up to you and said “Candy/Sarah, I want to write a romance novel customized to your specifications (plot, hero type, heroine type)” what would you select to go in that novel?
Setting/Plot: A lush historical with lots of interesting period detail, featuring some sort of forbidden love.
Hero: Virgin, or at least less experienced than the heroine. Smart. Self-deprecating, funny, just a bit shy.
Heroine: World-weary and cynical, redeemed by a good man’s love.
What’s your favorite cereal?
OK, those of you who don’t have a Trader Joe’s near you won’t have any fucking clue what I’m talking about, while those of you who do are probably going to nod your head in agreement--but those Vanilla Almond Clusters they have? Orgasmically good. Ditto their Very Berry Crunch.
Who’s the smarter bitch?
When it comes to dorky science shit: Probably me. When it comes to lit crit, fem crit and other such realms: definitely Sarah.
If you were to be stranded on a itty-bitty-island and could only bring one thing, who or what would you take with you?
An unbreakable machine that can perpetually serve up a variety of delicious, nutritious square meals every day and generate all the potable water I need.
Who does your make-up?
Nobody. I don’t wear make-up. Most women go “Oh, I don’t wear make-up--except for a light dusting of powder and a bit of blush and some light eyeliner and a lipstick in a neutral color.” Me? I mean it. I. Don’t. Wear. Make-up. When I got married (in a doughnut shop called Voodoo Doughnut, which tells you a lot about me right there), I bought myself a pretty pink dress, a pair of knee-high boots and painted my nails an obnoxious sparkly pink. Did not put on ANY make-up. Not even lip-gloss.
What’s the worst movie you’ve seen?
Plan 9 From Outer Space, but it’s so bad, it’s good. I do dislike the following well-regarded movies with a measured virulence: Jurassic Park, Forrest Gump, Independence Day and Titanic (I would’ve cheered out loud when Leo diFuglio sank under, but I was afraid I’d be attacked by a herd of pissed-off 13-year-olds who’d seen the movie 45 times already).
Worst book read?
Desire’s Blossom by Cassie Edwards, though The Lighthouse Keeper by James Pratt gives it a pretty good run for its money.
What’s your favorite TV show? Worst TV show?
I don’t watch much TV nowadays. I don’t have the time, and I don’t have cable. I do love Arrested Development, though. And Sealab 2021, though it’s been cancelled. Defunct TV shows that I dig include Monty Python’s Flying Circus and Cowboy Bebop.
Worst? Hmmm. Don’t know. Don’t feel all that strongly about TV, though I am simultaneously fascinated and horrified by the train-wreck quality of most reality shows. Some, like Temptation Island and Joe Millionaire were so horrible that I had to watch every episode and squeal with guilty pleasure over them with friends.
Beef or chicken?
That depends on what I’m craving. As of this moment: Beef. Specifically, a nice hunk of medium-rare rib-eye steak seared in garlic butter. Mmmmm.
What are you like in real life? Do you talk as openly with real people? Would you be as funny if I met you in person?
It really depends on the context. If I’m in a room full of strangers, I tend to clam up and be all mousy quiet. Once I’m more comfortable in a setting, though, I have relatively few inhibitions, and I WILL say the completely inappropriate thing that everyone’s thinking but afraid to say out loud. I think I was the first person at the University of Portland to comment that people living in the Victorian era would’ve benefited from masturbating more frequently. This was during a discussion on neurasthenia in a 400-level English lit course. I probably got the “English Major of the Year” award solely because the profs appreciated all the entertainment I’d provided in the two and a half years I was at UP.
Which are you:
American version: skeet or ho? I’ll be all old-skool and go with ho.
English version: minger or todger dodger? Todger dodger. Better to be a hot lesbian than straight but bashed repeatedly with the ugly stick.
Scottish version: cowping or madbit? I couldn’t find a definition for cowping, so I’ll just go with madbit.
Which would you prefer to wrestle in, Jell-O or pudding?
Gotta go with the medium that has the jiggle and bounce: Definitely Jell-O.
And now the moment you’ve been waiting for: A picture that indicates how very, very tall the Very Tall Husband is (and what a midgety midget I am), plus pictures of the Das Kleinen Bastarden.
This was taken at the VTH’s best friend’s wedding, where he was the best man. We didn’t look nearly as nice for our own wedding. But we did get married in a doughnut shop by a dude wearing a sequinned sombrero.
Eric the Asshead, looking all fluffy and cute and shit in a box.
Awwww, just LOOK at the widdle pink paws!
She sometimes sleeps with her tongue all hangin’ out, and I think it’s the cutest thing ever.
Yes, I take pictures of my cats grooming their asses. And yes, I take pictures of my cats watching me download pictures of them grooming their own asses.
After a commenting problem was solved by circumventing the security word/captcha via site membership, the idea smacked me: would other folks like to avoid the security lines and go straight to the VIP section of commenting?
Please note: we are virgins to the EE Membership world, so if we grab its man-sac too tightly and cause some malfunctions, we might have to cancel the membership privileges, but until then, let’s give it a stroke - ur, try.
If you’d like to register as a member of the Smart Bitch website, scroll down on the right until you see “Smart Bitchery Members” section and register. Once you’re logged in to the site, you can avoid the security measures for commenting and enjoy the knowlege that you are an official Member of the Smart Bitchery. Or, you could just be...a member.
Congratulations to Destruction Angel, who despite not being able to comment due to some wacky EE problem, still managed to Guess that Lonely Heart correctly.
You know the drill: guess the title, author, and heroine’s name, and win a spiffy, shiny Smart Bitch title, and the envy of SBTB readers the world over.
Hot military maiden with penchant for magic wishes seeks equally hot ichthyoman for life-changing romance. Must be willing to follow me through multiple timezones, to help me thwart holy evil, and to find your way back to me whenever I spring forward.
See, this is the part that gets to me, every time. So reading certain books makes certain nubbins perk up in interest and raises the probability of the reader engaging in hot monkey sex (or hot monkey nubbin-rubbin’) exponentially. Is that bad? It’s another sensation that’s stimulated when one reads books. Why are sexual urges especially evil or bad or dangerous?
I read books not just to learn or to edify myself, but for the emotional impact. This is especially true of fiction. Basically, I want to lose myself in a foreign body. This means feeling everything the characters do. That means experiencing their grief, their terror, their joy, and yeah, their sexual ecstasy.
Why is sexual arousal much less acceptable than the grief many women’s fiction books attempt to make you feel, or the fight-or-flight adrenaline rush horror novels, adventure stories and thrillers try to inspire? Why is it OK to watch a person die in a novel, feel his every last death throe, but not OK to watch a person celebrate life in one of the most primal ways possible?
To me, it’s just one more sensation. And generally speaking, a book that successfully makes me feel a whole gamut of emotions and sensations is a very successful book. A novel that inspires no feeling or only one predominant emotion is generally not a book I’ll want to keep around. That’s why I have never really enjoyed Susan Johnson’s work; they turn me on, but I feel nothing BUT turned on through much of the book, and by the end my brain feels numb and tired from a surfeit of this one sensation. Emma Holly, on the other hand, puts me through my paces: her love scenes are more plentiful and more explicit than most Susan Johnson novels I’ve read, but I actually care about her characters and the actual story, not just the sexy bits of the action.
Reading is an inherently voyeuristic, invasive activity. Decrying how one activity is more unacceptably voyeuristic than the other strikes me as kind of odd. It’s OK if reading about all that sweaty bump-n-grind makes you uncomfortable. We all have our thresholds, and among many cultures, sex is a very difficult threshold to breach. You don’t have to read the books--by all means, read only books rated “warm” or cooler in the AAR sensuality rating scale. There are plenty of excellent books that don’t contain a peep of sex, and I’ve read and enjoyed many of them. But calling genres that feature explicit sex pejorative names or making insinuations about people who enjoy reading about the rumpy-pumpy? That’s just being an assclown.
