Tag Archives: Small Towns

What’s So Bad About Being Good?

The Billionaire’s Girlfriend

The Sheik’s Secret Passion

The Trillionaire’s Hidden Girlfriend

The Duke’s…The General’s…The Warlord’s…The Alpha’s…

These tropes have been a part of romance writing from the beginning. Along with the Lost Heir, Secret Baby, Self Made Huge Success. Plus name brand shoes, expensive cars, the best of the best of the best.

For good reason. These are popular themes, and these books sell. Some people want books to take them away from the mundane. They want to put themselves in the expensive shoes of the most beautiful woman in the room, being appreciated by the richest, most powerful man in the world. Fantasy is a wonderful thing and if you like writing these stories then you should indulge.

But if this is not your lifestyle and it’s an effort for you to come up with all the necessary accoutrements; if you’re more of a dusty boots and old truck kind of a writer…then write about dusty boots and old trucks and people who fall in love in small towns.003

If you’re uncomfortable with clinical sex scenes and don’t understand the BDSM lifestyle, don’t try to fake it. You will be found out.

Small town series sell. It wouldn’t take much to name multiple successful books set in towns where the readers want to move one day. Good people going about their lives, loving each other, fighting, making up. Well written, honest conflict piques interest the same as extravagant lifestyles and high drama. For me as a reader and a writer, it’s better when the citizens in that small town are believable, and not a cast of wealthy people, highly successful, former champions. But again, that’s my personal preference.

Do not be afraid to write about ordinary people who live and laugh and love. Ordinary people who do extraordinary things: fight fires, foster children, contribute to the idea that life is worth living. And if you do write those books, don’t be surprised at the number of readers who thank you for writing about people to whom they can relate.

We can’t all wear Jimmy Choo.

 

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