Chick-Lit is dead

Yep, that's what I found out at the conference. $120 worth of panty cookies, hotel room, conference fees and lots of bar tabs and I find out that my genre has gone the way of Katie Holmes career (well, okay, my genre isn't chained in the Scientology basement while it's "man" half is partying on a yacht in France with Sean Combs but you get the idea). Matter of fact, it's SO dead I got this little ditty in the email box yesterday...

Sorry, chick lit is really tough right now.

I've removed the name of the agent.

Professional, no? According to the people at the conference we are now to refer to ourselves as "Women's Literature" and we should be tackling more serious subjects like infidelity, addiction and parental relationship issues. No one want to read chick-lit, light mysetery, anything funny or anything with a gay man in it. Unless you wnat to read about two gay men together which is the hottest download now at Ellora's Cave according to the always fabulous Ralene G.

I...don't want to write about any of that. I don't want to read about any of it either. Who are you people who want to spend your free time hearing about spouses that cheat and alcoholics and people who hate their parents? Don't you have enough of that going on on television without having to slap down ten bucks to read about it? Not me. Not this chick. So the book of my heart is...not marketable at this point. And I'm devestated. And at a loss as to what to do. And wishing I had another all consuming passion like scrapbooking I could turn to. Normally I mock the scrapbook set. I'm so sad about it. And I actually have three agent and an editor request sitting here but I don;t even have the heart to send it since I'm afraid they'll be like OHHHHHH, nooooooooooooooo we're not doing that anymore. Sorry. It's all very disheartening.

So the question of the week is what should Novelchick now do? Oh, and NovelChick hates yoga so don't suggest that.

Oh, but just in case you are interested it's all about NASCAR and EROTICA. And...no.