In the End

I knew it wasn't going to work out.  

Three months ago, I wrote that I was all excited because Galatea had offered me a publishing contract for this book.  I was over the moon because their reading application seemed to be of a higher quality than a lot of the other apps I get offers from.  

Here's a list of complaints I have about the contracts offered by the other apps:

• They want the stories to be over 200,000 words.  A book becomes a novel when it hits 40,000 words.  It takes an incredible amount of material to make something 200,000 words long.  I have written only one thing over 200,000 words long.  That was my Mark of a Dragon trilogy, and I'm not certain I have any interest in writing anything else that long for the rest of my life.
• They want updates every day.  That either means cutting stories up into teeny, tiny, bite-sized pieces, or it means churning out stuff that's only purpose is to perpetuate itself.  
• They want you to hand over TV and movie rights as part of the contract and they are paying you a song for your work.  That means that if your story ever did hit the big time, and get made into a movie, you wouldn't get a penny for writing it.  
• They won't show you how many people are reading your work or how popular it is.
• They want exclusive rights, so only they can host your story, and they are only willing to pay you dimes for the privilege.   

Galatea did not show me my stats, but they also didn't pay me pennies.  They actually forked over reasonable paycheques.  I was DE-LIGHTED! 

I installed Galatea's app on my phone and I started getting notifications about what was trending and it was not stuff that I would be interested in reading, or interested in writing.  I joined a Facebook group that showed what Galatea readers were interested in and I knew I was going to get thrown out.  It was only a matter of time.

Here's the thing... my book isn't about an alpha male, or a werewolf, or a shifter, or a billionaire, or about naughty sex, or sweet sex, or... whatever it is that they're selling.  The Facebook page was mostly pictures of guys with huge muscles, and tattoos, with dirty looks on their faces.  To be honest, there was something about them that repelled me.  Which is weird.  I like romance novels.  I think falling in love is one of the best experiences to be had in life, but something about those men made me feel like them symbolizing love was ripping love apart.  Like the authors romanticized the drama of a toxic relationship because you can get 200,000 words out of it.  I feel just as ripped off in a different way when I see fuzzy cozy Christmas romances too, except the love is getting watered down with lists of reasons why you love someone or crushed into something you can buy like a heart-shaped locket. 

Anyway... I used to think I just needed to become a better writer in order to succeed.  I don't think that anymore.   Instead, I think there might not be a place where people want the kind of romance novel I write in the commercial world.  

Whatever, I'll do what I want.

Whenever I Want.  HA!