Today we welcome Anna Kyle, and her new release, Omega Rising.
Anna Kyle wrote her first story
at age 12 on an old manual typewriter, and though the technology has
changed, she hasn’t stopped since. She lives in the Midwest surrounded by
family and friends and dogs and horses. They’ve forgiven her (mostly) when they
appear in her stories. She reads everything she can get her hands on, but
romances, especially paranormals, are her favorite. Vampires, humans, Fae,
shapeshifters, or demons, it doesn’t matter—Anna’s heart goes pitter-pat for
the Happily Ever After. Hot heroes + strong, funny heroines = awesome.
Thanks
for giving me an opportunity to rant a bit.
When
I was close to finishing my first draft of Omega Rising, my paranormal romance,
back in late 2013/early 2014, the world (meaning a lot of agents, editors, bloggers I respected) declared the paranormal
romance dead. “Can't sell PNRs anymore.”
The articles came fast and furious. “Glut.” “Market oversaturation.”
“Twilight was the beginning of the end.” On and on they went. But I love
reading PNRs. How come suddenly no one else did?
Let
me back up a second. I’m an avid reader of romances. Well, I’m an avid reader
of everything but romances have been my favorite ever since I picked up one of
my mom’s Harlequin Presents as a teenager. I looked forward to sneaking away with
those white covers with bright pops of color when she was done reading. Those
stories took me to far off places like the deserts of Arabia, the mountains in
Switzerland with handsome heroes and beautiful heroines. They solved mysteries,
wrestled with accidents and amnesia and their feelings, they took down the bad
guy, confessed their lies (it seemed there was always a big lie being told) then
eventually confessed their love for each other. The Happy Ever After. Hooked.
Then
about ten years ago I picked up my first paranormal romance (by Christina Dodd,
who I’d never heard of before) and read it one sitting. Amazing. Fantastic. Delicious. I bought the whole series and
gobbled them up, too, and hunted for more books. The stakes were higher in
paranormals, the heroes hotter and heroines sexier, the romances steamier. Yes
yes yes. More, please.
Paranormal
writers used words real men and women used every day, like cock and wet (no
more manhood or gods forbid manroot, and petals opening - hooray). The heroines
were strong, flawed, their orgasms important, like in real life. Even with the
fantasy element of vampires or shapeshifters or witches, the stories, the
romances, were more authentic. I was so IN.
Okay,
back to when PNRs were declared dead. On an online open chat with one of the
publishers where I planned to submit the manuscript once polished, their reps confirmed
what I’d been reading. I was blindsided, heartbroken, sick to my stomach. I had
just spent a considerable amount of time and tears on my first novel that would
never sell. Might as well flush this thing I created and loved down the toilet.
I stumbled through the rest of that day, berating myself one minute then the
next wondering if I could change my novel and eliminate the paranormal element.
That
made me feel even worse because paranormal added a level of complexity and
tension and steaminess that, in my view anyway, not just couldn’t but shouldn’t be cut out like an unwanted
defect. An unsalable defect. I wrote what I loved but no one wanted to read
PNRs anymore? Because I sure did.
The
next morning I woke up and looked at my TBR stack and some books I just
finished reading. A healthy number of those books were paranormals. I checked
the pub dates – all new. Huh. Wtf. They weren’t dead after all. After filing
that bit of news under “dammit, don’t believe everything you read’ I went right
back to my manuscript to revise, rewrite, edit and revise some more. Less than
a year later I had two books under contract and my editor helped make my books
even stronger.
My
theory is that for a while there was a glut of paranormal romances and some
books that slipped through were…less than good (you know what I’m talking
about). The market listened to annoyed readers, including myself, who plunked
down hard earned cash only to find a story that didn’t live up to the high
expectations the genre demands. Because of this, I believe, publishers big and
small (and indie writers) tightened their standards and better stories
resulted.
Good
for the genre, good for the reader.
Long
live the delicious paranormal romance!
Omega
Rising is available in trade paperback and ebook via Amazon.com,
Barnesandnoble.com, Books-a-Million, Kobo, World Weaver Press, iBookstore, IndieBound
and OmniLit, and for wholesale through Ingram.
Website: annakyle.com
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1sn7yPX
Goodreads: http://bit.ly/22uf4oA
Twitter: Anna Kyle
@SandsOfTime5050
EXCERPT
“I
like him, Tabs.”
“You
know nothing about him.”
Cass
was unprepared for the jagged lick of jealousy as the old boyfriend possibility
became suddenly real. She clenched her hands into fists into her lap and bowed
her head as she imagined Tabitha running her fingers through Nathan’s hair.
“You
know him then,” she said, steeling herself.
“No.
But I know men like him,” Tabitha responded, her voice flat, angry. Cass sighed
in relief, relaxed her hands and looked up at her friend who was staring off
into the distance, frowning. “Dangerous, selfish, arrogant, cold.” She turned
to look at her. “You have nothing in common. Zero. He would destroy you.”
“Destroy
me,” Cass scoffed. “Listen, drama queen. Guy was shaking when he bandaged me. So
he’s sensitive. He helped us out today on no notice. So he’s nice. And we both
don’t like blood, so there. That’s one thing in common.”
Tabitha
barked a loud humorless laugh.
“Guys
like him bathe in blood.” Cass stared at Tabitha, mouth open. Tabitha blinked
then smiled ruefully. “Okay, that was a little drama-queenie.”
“And
super disgusting.”
Tabitha
grinned now. “Yeah, that too.” She held out her index finger toward Cass.
“Agree to disagree?”
Cass
nodded and stretched her own finger to Tabitha’s for a second.
“Just
. . . be careful. I’m worried about you. You need to eat. You need to sleep.
You need to take care of yourself. This whole thing,” she gestured widely, her
voice catching, “falls apart without you.”
Cass’s
eyes burned at her friend’s concern for her. She nodded. “You're right. I know.
The nightmares will go away.” Who will
die this time? “They did before.” Only
because I ran. Cass looked out over her grounds of her tiny kingdom spread
before them, not believing her own words and unable to look at Tabitha.
Cass knew the truth; death was coming.
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