Fifty Shades - Part 1 - Sex

In my elevator pitch, I presented "Fringe Benefits" as a sexy romp and had the gall to compare it to "Fifty Shades of Grey" at a time when (1) I had not read "Fifty Shades," and (2) my draft did not contain a single sex scene. It did have sex off camera. But the actual doing of it was all implied. Modesty? Not really. Mostly fear of crafting something of the cringe-inducing kind. Perhaps because every time I got my characters in the sack, the simple act of writing about it made me cringe.

Thus I turned to "Fifty Shades," partly out of curiosity, partly to see if I could make good on the comparison.

"Fifty Shades" has an Anna (short for Anastasia). So do I. Anastasia gets involved with a wealthy man with a kinky streak. So does my Anna. Other than that, my Anna, forty-two, sleeps around. Anastasia, twenty-one, is a virgin (the gifted kind who doesn’t gag.)

Once Anastasia gives in to multimillionaire Christian Grey's advances, the sex starts. At this point, I put my metaphorical elbows to the table, fingers to the forehead, ready to absorb and learn.

I learned three things.

One - If you want to call a book sexy, there needs to be some sex. A lesson I can work with.

Two - If you remind your readers of how they are supposed to feel and repeat at infinitum "he's so hot," "oh my," "holy crap," "holy shit," and all other kinds of holy, your interruptions of sophomoric glee will short circuit any incipient titillating effects.

Lesson: Avoid.

Three - Call your sex BDSM, and make sure others mention your book in relation to BDSM. Never mind that:

• While the sex involves a tie, some rope, handcuffs, butt plugs, a flogger and the accidental [and plot turn generating] cane, you won't find BDSM beyond what you've seen on prime time TV. 
• Any hard core BDSM happens off camera and off page. (I guess we all have our cringe thresholds.)
• Anastasia (who repeatedly murmurs “I do as I’m told,”) never signs Christian's way-too-long contract, refuses to fully participate in the BDSM experience, and effectively ‘cures’ him of the less palatable side effects of his perversity. 
• And poor self-described sadist Christian Grey practices only by consent, never in public and breaks to pieces every time she goes "ouch!"

Lesson: After spicing up my "Fringe Benefits" draft with a sprinkling of hanky-panky that doesn't stray too far from goings on at most suburban master bedrooms, keep promoting it as a 'Fifty Shades of Open Enrollment wannabe' in an egregious attempt to call up sales through misdirection. 

Well. At least I have the sex figured out now.

Comps

The idea that to sell a book an author needs to present a list of comparable works has bugged me since I first heard about it in November. It shouldn't be such a hard thing to do. Unless wholly original, one should be able to say that "you hold in your hands a mystery/romance/thriller/literary novel in the style of..., with a dash of..."

I have not discovered a new genre, thus "Fringe Benefits" should have company. Why is it then so hard to find a comp that I can live with?

Besides what I showed in my jazzed up "elevator pitch," this is what I have written: A story about a woman (Anna) in a career (Human Resources) with romantic attachments (mostly at work) as she evolves through emotional, sexual and professional misadventures. With this premise, I could have produced a mystery, a romance, a thriller, a literary novel or anything else. Instead, all I wanted to write was an easy to read, at times funny at times serious story, using as pillars my years as an HR professional at a small marketing agency that underwent multiple acquisitions.

I'm not exactly sure why yet, but the combo of my goals seems to point to chic lit. I myself went there first. As soon as the question "what are your comps?" was asked, I said Bridget Jones and Fifty Shades. Bridget Jones is a successful movie franchise and Fifty Shades has sold better than Shakespeare. Momentarily, I was quite happy with myself.

But before claiming membership to a group, I should at least read its Bylaws. In the weeks that followed, I have given myself the assignment of either corroborating my selections, or coming up with better ones. I have read since the whole "Fifty Shades" trilogy, and piled up my night stand with Jennifer Weiner's "Good in Bed," Diane Johnson's "Le Divorce," and Madeleine Wickham/Sophie Kinsella's "Sleeping Arrangements" and "Remember Me." I also bought Barbara Rose Brooker's "The Viagra Diaries." And browsed at my local Barnes & Noble through the last Bridget Jones and the follow up to "The Devil Wears Prada."

As I start to go through my pile, I'm getting depressed. And highly confused.

Stay tuned.