A little addendum to this post, because the truth is, much as I don't have the soul of a businesswoman and am too often ruled by my heart over my head, every single book of mine someone buys helps pay my rent, helps keep RKB Enterprises, Inc. in business, helps ensure I get to spend my days writing, editing and creating. If some other book of mine suddenly took off and sold like mad, I'd be wowed and awed and humbled and grateful. I wouldn't be like, "You're not The Big Book of Orgasms, so I don't care how popular you are."
But I'm well aware that since I don't have the magic BDSM touch, topics like submission or anal sex or bondage are probably not going to sell as well as orgasms, nor would I expect them to. They're niche, though there are plenty of readers who like those niches. But in terms of my time and focus, I have to look at both what I'm passionate about and what has a shot at doing well in the marketplace, because I hate when books bomb. Sometimes, when a book doesn't do as well as you'd hoped, it gets a fancy shmancy makeover and a second chance. That's awesome. But part of me trying to be both me, as well as President of RKB Enterprises, Inc., aka, a creative businesswoman, is about not having books that need makeovers in the first place. Books that start strong and stay strong. Books that people can enjoy whether they're kinky or not, whether they ever read erotica or not, whether they're conservative or liberal. Sure, anyone can enjoy my more kinky books, but logic and instinct and hope tell me that The Big Book of Orgasms is the one to bet it all on. Sometimes I step back and realize, wow, I've edited 55 anthologies, that's amazing for someone who used to want to be a lawyer. And it is.
I'm incredibly lucky and grateful that publishers and editors took a chance on me. But I don't want to keep on editing books just for the sake of vanity, because I like opening up a case of them and seeing my name on the cover. That was exciting at first, when I co-edited Up All Night (for Alyson, which, like so many publishers, went belly up) for a flat fee of $1,000, no royalties. I was young and naive and would never take a deal like that again, and would never recommend anyone else do so. My point being, I may have a lot of books to my name, but as an adult and a businesswoman and someone who hopes someday to raise a child, I need to only focus on books that can hold their weight in the marketplace. Of course nobody knows how any given book will do until it's out in the world. I'm not a psychic. But the reason I'll be tracking this book so closely is because my future does, on some level, hang in the balance of its balance sheet. That may sound gross and cold and calculating, and perhaps it is, but that's reality. I will be thrilled if where my heart's professional passion lies is where my business's core beats as well. That's been my goal since I realized I didn't have the heart or stamina or smarts to be a lawyer. I won't know for a while exactly how my experiment in book promotion has fared, which is good, in a way, because it will allow me to try anything and everything I can think of to make sure these 69 stories reach the widest possible audience they can. After that, who knows? I'm not thinking about after just yet. I'm just savoring the joy of being madly in love with my new book, and hoping the world is too. If readers are even a tiny fraction as enamored of The Big Book of Orgasms as I am, it'll exceed my goals for it. The book is just making its way into readers' hands, so soon I will have many other people's opinions to share with you.
So you're not just taking my word for it, because of course the editor is going to blab on and on about how awesome her book is...The very first review is from author A.C. James, and features something I adore: hearing what readers' favorite stories are. With 69 to choose from, I can't wait to see what resonates with everyone:
It would be impossible for me to pick a favorite story from this collection because so many of them resonated with orgasms past or piqued my curiosity to explore ones I’ve yet to discover…
The Gallery Exhibit by Chris Komodo took exhibitionism and made orgasm into art. Matinee by Suleikha Snyder reminded me that eroticism doesn’t mean sex. It doesn’t mean sex at all. A look, a touch, a brushing of arms can be just as hot or hotter than the most passionate kiss or embrace. At the same time Meeting Myself by Anya Levin reminds us that sex is timeless, ageless, and does not end.