So after this discussion about the Washington Post’s desire to see your red hot romantic boudoir, I have a question for those who read our site who are also writers and published authors of romance: What are some of your most ridiculous press questions, and what did you say?
And readers of romance, though we are not as much in the attentive eye of the media, have you ever been asked a stupid or offensive question? How did you answer?
I’m forever fending off the, “But you’re smart- how come you read Those Books?” question. Depending on the asking party, and whether I have to sit with them several times a year at large family gatherings like Seder or Thanksgiving, I most often say, “Because they’re awesome – what do you like to read?” I turn the question back on the asker because (a) as Valerie Plame noted in an interview, there are few things more wonderously conducive to one-sided conversation than saying, ‘REALLY? Tell me more!’ and (b) it’s kind of funny to watch the asker think hard for a title to mention that isn’t remotely open for criticism and is ubiquitously liked and respected.
But the press? If you’re an author being interviewed, you can’t ask the interviewer’s opinions or preferences. So what would you say?
The most offense comment was a ‘friend’ saying to a group of people that we (romance authors) churn novels out so it must be easy. Then she looked at me and said ‘No Offense.”
OF COURSE I was offended. What an maroon.
And talk about timing…I’m actually running a contest for this right now—best snarky replies to offensive comments about the romance genre. There are wonderful, snarky replies if you want to take a look!
I was once asked by a very ambitious male coworker why I write romance when I could be writing something much better, like science fiction.
Without thinking, I answered that romance represented over half of the fiction market and I preferred to focus my efforts where the biggest potential return was.
His eyes grew very round and he sighed, saying maybe he should think about writing one. LOL
Diane
Apparently I don’t look—or sound—Mexican enough, so occasionally people are taken by surprise to learn that I am. Some of the questions after that are offensive to the point of speechlessness, but most are born of utter ignorance. Such as, “do you guys have stores? and malls?”
Brianna: did you slap the person who asked that silly? Please tell me you did!
There are apparently 2 of us Brianna’s on this site. Pretty funny about the drapes matching the carpet.
I work with the public and one time a guy kept questioning me about my shaving habits. When I asked him to stop he just kept saying “So, do you shave all your body hair?”. Yeeeeahhhhhhhh Creepy.
Oh man, I just remembered another one—at a writing conference, a general conference with all manner of genres and styles represented, I happened to find myself at lunch seated with several older gentlemen who were all writing military history memoirs, one poet, and Serious Literary Girl.
She asked everyone in turn what they were writing and when she got to me, I answered “women’s fiction and romance.” You could almost see her scooting her chair a few inches away, as if she was afraid to catch the cooties. She responded with, “Well, after all the workshops I’ve been to this weekend, I can safely say that what I’m writing is definitely literary fiction, thank God. I was worried it might fall into some genre classification and it would be difficult for readers to find my books.”
She then turned to me and said, “Don’t you feel that you’re limiting yourself by writing… genre? I mean, don’t you want people to be able your books on the shelves?”
I responded with, “Considering that romance and women’s fiction account for over half of the paperback fiction market I’ll lay money that people find my book on a shelf before they find yours.”
Yeah, it was mean. I felt kind of bad afterwards. But not much.
Dr. Frantz—I have the opposite problem of this: I have really short hair and I once got asked rather randomly in a book store, “So which charity did you donate your hair to?â€
I have really, really long hair (down to my butt), and am constantly asked when I’m going to donate it, or told that I should donate it. It always makes me feel horribly guilty, and I just shrug and say that I like my hair, but if I ever feel up to cutting it off, of course I’ll donate it.
(By the way—and I apologize if this sounds totally stalkery—but a new hire in my department knows you from school. We were discussing my research interests, and I said I was interested in romance novels, and she replied, “Oh, I went to school with someone who was into that—Sarah Frantz?”)
“to be able to find your books on the shelves.”
This is what I get for trying to type and talk to my mother on the phone at the same time.
My favorite was the reporter who looked at my bookshelves and asked, “Have you read all these books?”
“Nah. I buy them by the truckload ‘cause they’re easier to dust than nick-nacks.”
OK, that’s what I wished I’d said. Instead I smiled politely and said, “Yes. I enjoy reading. You can’t be an effective writer if you don’t read a great many books.”
I’ve written a lot of erotica, and usually get asked, “So, do you do a lot of research?” [nudge nudge, wink wink]
We writers don’t have time to have sex. We’re too busy writing pr0n.
Spinsterwitch I have exactly the same issues with being vegetarian. Also “what do you have for Christmas lunch?” every year, from all the same people who asked me last year. There were also a few regrettable instances of people thinking I would eat some food or other if they picked the meat out for me.
I’m tall (6’1”) and fat. I don’t get too much hassle about my height (a lot of good natured bantering, and I offer to boost a colleague up into my seat when swapping with them….) but I can recall one or two instances where my size in general was an issue.
I went to France as a “mini assistant” for two weeks when I was 17 (mini referring to the duration of the post which would normally be a year). Every time the petite, svelte, headmistress introduced me to people, she added: “she’s not very mini, is she?” which (especially at an insecure 17) got very old very quickly.
Despite being from Kentucky I’ve managed to avoid being asked offensive questions based on that fact.
Oh I get them all the time. The “do you wear shoes” one especially.
True story. We were a family of 6 who grew up in a lovely large home in a small KY town (Madisonville). Since there were 3 of us girls, my Dad built us a tiny playhouse out back. It was a garden shed at the back, but the front was a real door and there were windows and even a tiny loft. It was about 10’ x 10’.
Shortly after she married, my oldest sister moved to CA with her husband and took a graphic design job, where she endured constant slurs about her hick home in Kentucky and her accent. So she took in a picture of the playhouse that had been taken on a day when Mom had clothes out on the adjacent line and just sort of innocently laid it on her desk. And yep, they fell for it. “Sure,” she said, “all six of us grew up there. It made it easier to keep warm, being barefoot and all.”
Gemma I know exactly what you mean about the large comments. Being overweight myself I have total strangers offering me diet advice, and it’s annoying how many waiters ask me if I mean diet when I order a Coke, or even worse just bring it, ewww.
I also used to have very long hair down to my butt. I never got asked if I would donate it, but people would pat me all the time, like I was a really tall dog or something, geesh.
I’m totally blind, and I use a white cane when I go out, so that I can tell where I’m going. Invariably, people will ask me when I intend to get a dog. (the answer is: I don’t, mostly because I don’t like dogs and also my apartment is too small and it would be pretty cruel for the poor dog to be cooped up in a place this size for any length of time.) People will also ask me if I ever hit people with my cane on purpose. In fact, I ended up attracting the attention of a girl in my Sociology class the last two weeks of the semester because of that. She was fascinated by my cane, and seemed to be everywhere I was going, much tio my chagrin, waiting for me to hit people.
But actually, my mom has some great stories about people’s reactions when she took me out in public. Someone at the church we went to when I was little actually told Mom that I was a punishment from God for her sins, and one time, when she took me to the store when I was even smaller, I apparently got in the way of someone doing very important shopping. The man turned to my mom and shouted, “Can’t you curb your pet?”
Gemiwing, last year I joined a gym. When they were filling out my paperwork, they asked if I was married (no). Then they asked if I had a boyfriend (yes). Then they were really interested in making sure my boyfriend was going to support the idea, which I thought was really weird as it never occurred to me that it was any of his business, seeing as how I have a lot of hours in my day that don’t have anything to do with him.
They never asked if I *lived* with my boyfriend. My finances don’t have anything to do with his. It didn’t occur to me that they were trying to figure out if The Breadwinner was going to come in and object until my mother signed up and stopped their pestering about if my father approved by saying “Well, I make my own money.”
Verification: Fiscal68
When people (usually males) ask me if I’m a natural blonde I tell them they can only pray they’d ever be lucky enough to find out.
When my hair was long and all the way down my back, females would sometimes say, “Your hair would look so good if it was just barely touching your shoulders.” Finally I started replying with, “But then it would look just like yours and wouldn’t be anything special.”
When an annoying and pushy person on a plane asks what I’m reading I tell them gay vampire porn.
Several years ago I came up with the perfect response to the “I’ll give you all the ideas and you can write it into a book” dilemma:
“Um, okay, I guess I could do that. I tell you what: you write down all the stuff you want to include, and then I’ll go through and rewrite it and make it all writerly.”
I’ve had people say, “Sure!” in reply, but no one’s ever actually done it.
The most rude question I got asked concerning my reading material was when I was buying a bunch of romance novels before Christmas break, and the guy at the cash register asked me, “So, planning on a lot looonely nights?” Uhg.
In general, the rudest question I was ever asked was when I was looking at grad schools. I wanted to stay in my home state, so my choices were kind of limited. Anyway, at one school I was visiting, the department chair asked where I was from, and when I told her she said, “They have schools down there???” Uh, like, no. We just scramble barefoot in the dirt and eat bugs like the people in LOS HURDES. Stupid bitch. Needless to say, I did not go to that school.
Oh, and that was UC Boulder, btw, the “flagship” school of Colorado. Oy.
I also keep my hair short—yep, I got that Caesar/Clooney haircut [what can I say? I’m lazy, and I want my hair wash’n’wear], and I typically wear jeans, boots, and tweed blazers or leather jackets—but I don’t carry a purse. And while I don’t look like a guy despite my un-girly wardrobe, I have been approached by folks assuming I’m a dike—which I ain’t.
It was funny when some brain-dead tart expected me to wait and hold a door for her, but it was even funnier when I walked into my son’s school for the requisite how’s-my-kid-doing meeting. A soccer mommy [she was so cookie-cutter] on her way out looked at me and stopped in her tracks, declaring, “You can’t be somebody’s mother!”
I shrugged. “Oh, yeah? Tell that to my uterus.”
Strange,… men don’t seem to be nearly as bothered by my appearance as some women evidently are. What’s with that?
re: stupid requests
Back when I was doing freelance graphic design, some nit asked me about creating a painting of a unicorn for her—but she insisted it had to be of a ‘real unicorn!’
Me [deadpan]: Certainly. All I need from you is a deposit of [x] dollars, and some reference photos.
Needless to say,….
I should have included this in my response above. Maybe it merits its own, however…
I know a woman who couldn’t wait to tell me how “formulaic” romances are, how “easy” it must be to write one, how she was going to write a single title romance. Bear in mind, I don’t think she’s written anything more lengthy than a grocery list. Of course, I’m supportive, even if she’s rude as hell. After all, she’s my husband’s boss’ partner.
The last time I saw her, I asked how the writing was going. She asked me how long it typically took me to write a book. I responded that the first draft takes anywhere from five to seven months, then I do revisions.
The authors here will need to put down any soda, coffee, etcetera, before reading the following:
“Well, I don’t know if I want to spend all that time if it doesn’t hit the best-seller list. Why should I go to all that effort and not make a lot of money on it?”
Let’s just say that I avoid her now…
-S
When I was dating my ex, his family lived in Chicago. As we were driving into the city with his sister, the city skyline was lit and I turned to my ex and said, “Oh, look at that! It’s so beautiful!”. She turned and said, “Oh, that’s right! You’ve probably never seen tall buildings before!”
When I was in the Air Force, I frequently heard, “Do you all wear shoes?” “Do you all really marry your brother/cousin/daddy/uncle?” (And they always say “YOOAHHWL” when they ask.) Those questions were meant to give me a hard time about where I was from, though, and weren’t meant seriously.
The worst one I heard based on being from Kentucky, though:
An aquaintance is an elegant Southern deb-type by way of a long line of elegant Southern deb-types. Perfect hair and understated but perfect make-up, manicures, and manners. The family wasn’t part of the horse set, but they were related to it by marriage. When the daughter decided to go to Columbia, her mother went up to attend some sort of sorority alumni function with her daughter. So all of these mothers and daughters were gathered at the hotel and they decided to order out. One of the mothers turned to my acquaintance’s mother and said, in all seriousness, “Now, you do know what pizza is, right?” Without batting an eye, she replied, “I think I read about it on our journey here in our covered wagon.”
She turned and said, “Oh, that’s right! You’ve probably never seen tall buildings before!”
I was actually asked something similar before when I mentioned to someone that I grew up in a tiny dot on the map. They wondered if when I came to college was the first time I’d been to Louisville or out of my town at all. I had to explain that I’d been to Louisville quite frequently and that I had, in fact, been born in Tampa, FL.
I do find that I get the “have you ever been on a plane” question more frequently than others and then I get to reply “yes, I’ve been flying since I was 1.” The best part is when I’d ask if they’d ever been on a plane and get the “oh, uh, no” response.
I’m kind of sad I’ve never gotten the “do you wear shoes.” I feel as though until I do then I’m not a true Kentuckian.
I’m kind of sad I’ve never gotten the “do you wear shoes.†I feel as though until I do then I’m not a true Kentuckian.
There is one, and ONLY one definition of a true Kentuckian.
Kentuckian = One who slavishly follows the Wildcats. At least three wardrobe items must feature the Wildcat logo. All events must be scheduled around games. Bonus points are given for buying a Wildcat blue car (like my BIL just did).
Ahemmm…she did say she went to school in Louisville. Not that that means anything…I’m just saying…
Although, in all honesty, I was born and raised in Lexington and graduated from UK and I have one UK hat. I only bought that because I was standing in line and I was burning to a pile of cinders, as I typically do being a redhead, and needed something to shade my face. It falls to my husband to wear all things Wildcat Blue, I’m afraid.
I’m not an author, but the funniest romance novel conversation I ever had went like this..
(male visitor seeing my overloaded bookshelves and rubbermaid boxes full of books) ” how can you read so many of those books? They can’t be THAT good”
(me offended) “Yes they ARE that good! Have you ever read a romance novel?”
(him with twinkle in his eyes)” NO WAY! those are for bored fat housewives with nothing better to do” (yeah I’m fat)
(me with evil plot in my mind) ” Hmph..Are you literate enough to read one if I picked out a good example of a romance novel?”
“ME? Literate? I’ll have you know I.. (blahblahblah boring books he’s read)
(Me , putting evil plot in motion) “Take this one..let me know what you think”
I handed him (upside down)MJ Pearson’s “The Price of Temptation”.. he stuck it in his jacket pocket without looking at the title..said snobbishly ” I’ll give it a shot but don’t count on me being able to finish it”
2 hours after he leaves the house I get a phone call……
” OH MY GOD!! That’s a GAY ROMANCE? you read GAY ROMANCE? The dudes crotch is HUGE! I mwan REALLY!! I want to tell on you to someone!! What’s your mothers phone number??”(he was screeching like a girl at this point)!
(evil plot complete,I’m laughing my ass off on phone so bad I almost passed out)
You get the idea, the phone call was 30 minutes of me laughing and snorting and him threatening to burn the book.
It’s actually a pretty good regency romance.
To this day he’s never admitted to reading it all and to this day I still haven’t got the book back. And when he visits, he never asks about my book stash, actually he avoids looking at the bookshelves at all LOL.
ah the revenge of fat bored housewives. It IS sweet.
At least three wardrobe items must feature the Wildcat logo
Nuts. I used to have all kinds of t-shirts but they’re ancient. I do, however, have a 24 carat gold UK necklace. I think this might make up for the lack of recent clothing.
And I did go to school in Louisville, but I’ve been a UK fan since birth. I only root for UofL when UK isn’t playing.
My parents are from Ireland and have lived in the U.S. for 50 years. When I was in grammar school (Catholic of course) every day after lunch recess we would say the rosary before starting afternoon studies. We could ask the class to say special prayers for a family member who was sick, etc. One day I asked for a special prayer for my grandfather who was sick in Ireland. The nun asked me “Where is Ireland? Mind you, the nun and her order were from Spain!!
I was in Ireland last spring and when I came back to work I was telling some colleagues about my trip. One person asked “Is it safe to travel there? Isn’t there a war going on between Catholics and Protestants?” I was so dumbfounded by the question I didn’t have a snappy comeback!
A friend and I were on the phone discussing how I always seem to be reading, I explained I read a variety of books (paranormal, suspense, mystery, historical) she asked which aisle I go down first when I get inside the book store. I immediately without hesitation said the Romance aisle.
There was a brief pause. Then she asked what the next aisle would be. I was like “Um, I just go down that one.” She seemed confused, asking “But I thought you read different types of books?”
I had to explain to her that while romance is the main element in all the books I read, there are many different types of back stories, plots and so on that an author can use to tell their story. Enough to keep me busy reading at least.
Okay, once I asked the rude question. I worked with two recent hires who came complete with BA’s in English. I jokingly quoted Macbeth. Dead silence, crickets chirping. Mocking myself I threatened to quote other biggies: Chaucer, Tennyson, etc.- nothing.
I explain my original quote. They respond that they had never read Shakespeare and had never heard of the others.
Me:(rudely) “You have a degree in English and you have never read any Shakespeare?”
Newbie 1: (offended) “None. I read Patterson, though.
Newbie 2: “Yeah, he rocks.”
Me: “Who?”
Them: “Oh my God! You have a degree in English and you’ve never read Patterson?”
I couldn’t apologize, I was laughing too hard.
They never read Shakespeare? What the hell college did they go to? I had to read Shakespeare in high school.
I’m french and when I was in Vancouver some years ago I was asked several times if french people really french-kiss to say hello. Yeah that’s what we do, every morning we just give one another big open-mouthed kisses with tongue and all ! riiigth !
//men don’t seem to be nearly as bothered by my appearance as some women evidently are.//
Possibly envy. I love looking at high heels and cute skirts, but honestly I can’t be bothered. Heels hurt and skirts are cold. If I felt obliged to wear them (as some women do) I’d feel horribly envious of someone who didn’t.
I had the ‘interesting’ experience of a fair amount of media interest last year after I won the Golden Heart. (Australian media loves it when a local does well internationally. Not that we’re parochial, or anything like that 🙂 ) I think I did about a dozen live radio interviews, as well as other interviews for print media. The media release that my university sent out mentioned my research as well as my writing, so there were questions about both and the genre in general.
Most of the interviewers were pretty good – the usual comments about romance, but light-hearted rather than snarky. One guy did start with a bit of an edge, but I just prefaced my response with a comment along the lines of “a great many of your listeners will be romance readers, so they’ll be aware that…” After that he dropped the edge, presumably not wanting to offend too many of his audience!
The question I was most unprepared for came during an evening radio interview, in which the interviewer assumed I was an expert on romance itself, and asked me to give advice for those who might want to do something romantic for their partners. If that town’s chocolate, florist and jewelry industries had a downturn, it’s probably my fault, because I’m pretty sure I said something about not doing the ordinary, predictable things but rather to find, say or do something that is special to the person, and that small, genuine gestures counted more than grand things.
She also asked if the hero in the novel was my husband.
There are a couple of rude questions posed to me over the years that have to do with my size. I am very thin, naturally. I couldn’t gain weight if the world depended on it. So, I’ve received the, “Are you aneroxic?”, “Are you belimic?” questions from strangers on the street. If I had a dollar every time someone asked me that, I’d be able to open my bookstore (life goal). That’s pretty rude but the worst was this older woman who walked by me while I was smoking a cigarette. She did a triple take, backed up, and asked me if I needed her food stamps. I smiled, thanked her for the offer, but told her I was fine. Now, I’m pretty sure she meant well, but what I have never understood is why being thin is an excuse to ask me really personal questions, from complete strangers….
Most people don’t question my reading material.
On the other hand the most offensive question I’ve had was “Does your husband approve of you driving a truck?”
I don’t wear a wedding ring and I hadn’t mentioned a husband. The guy assumed I was married, assumed I was straight and assumed my husband would have any say, let alone veto power, over my career choice.
(FTR, I am married. I am not straight. And my husband totally approves of anything legal that brings in $450/week+has good insurance.)
I said “I make twice as much as I did being a librarian. He has nothing to say about it.”
He shut up.
A reporter once asked me if I had to translate my own books when they sold to foreign publishers. It took all my self control not to say, ‘Sure, but I can’t sell into China, yet, because I need to work a bit more on my Mandarin…’
q: Are you uniquely skilled in the bedroom?
a: Why yes, I can make hospital corners.
When an annoying and pushy person on a plane asks what I’m reading I tell them gay vampire porn.
Lone…
I love you and want to bear your internet babies.
Jen- I understand about the tipis- I used to work at the State museum of History in OKC- I could overlook most of the odd comments made by international visitors, but the ones that always made my mouth hang open were the ones from folks in the US- it was really bad after the Murrah Buiding was bombed- we would get all these people in saying things like “I was surprised to see buildings on tv” and “Where do you park your horse?” But I think on of my favorites was the little old lady who said that she traveled to OK after seeing all the bombing coverage, “I thought I’d try something new since I saw you had real plumbing here.”
I was questioned on my reading material in a very odd way this week…
I work at a wildlife preserve, with, you know, people who like themselves some wildlife, and one of my coworkers starts telling us all how he heard “A very weird story” this week. It seems that someone wrote an article about black-footed ferrets, which some trashy romance novelist plagiarized. There’s a story about a Native American hunk, and he gets freaky with a lady, and they start talking about FERRETS in the most awkward and clunky way, and it turns out the whole passage was ripped off from a legitimate non-fiction article about the ferrets! Oh! Everyone is appropriately amused and scandalized, and I provide additional details, which causes my coworkers to wonder how I know the story. So I confess that I’m a regular reader of the blog that broke the story. “What blog?” “Uh… it’s called… uh… Smart Bitches Trashy Books.”
Howls of laughter followed, during which I just kept saying “GUYS IT’S A REALLY GOOD BLOG!”
Defendin’ the Bitchery, I am!
(Also I made sure to point out how much money The Bitchery and NR raised for the ferrets. This met with great approval.)
Brianna – as a fellow redhead, been there with that question many times. First time was Freshman year of high school in art class…and my naive self had no clue what those stoner dudes were talking about (I finally figured it out by the way they were leering at my crotch.) There’s an awesome poem about this, but I can’t seem to find it.
One of my all time faves (also from high school, working a cashier job)
“How much is the 10 cent candy?”