I met a fabulous writer when I was in N.J.  Her name is K.M. Jackson, Kwana to her friends.  We started talking about Passion, by Lisa Valdez, which is the first erotic historical  I read.

Since reading Passion I’ve been a little obsessed with the idea of erotic historical romance.  You can find a lot of historical erotica online that’s set in period times, but I’m talking historical erotic romance, with a plot and deep feelings and everything–not just spanked maids and lusty footman rolling in the hay with lords and ladies.

This book starts out at the crystal palace exhibition at the world’s fair in London during Victorian times.  The heroine is a widow, and there is a deep sorrowful sensuality about her.  The hero meets her in the palace and they end up behind a screen where he reveals his massive…um…talents.  Most women, in fact, cannot handle all his talent at one time.  The heroine however, can.  In fact with an odd little popping feel to her cervix as it somehow flexes away from her vaginal wall—Yes! I know what you’re thinking, but it’s described this way in the book—she is able to find room in this little pocket at the end of her vagina, where he can slide in, finding bliss in the process.

Clearly they were made for each other.  Clearly, this book is whack.

But I like whack!

 Anyway, back in NJ a few weeks ago, and Kwana and I start talking about the book. Someone said it was totally crazy.  Not in an enthusiastic way either.  YES, I agreed, it’s crazy, but that’s what was so great about it.  It was over the top.  You just can’t forget it.  It lights up pleasure centers in your brain willy-nilly.  Kwana agreed.  She too, she said, likes the crazy.

My obsession cranked up a notch.  I never had thought about it that way.  Yet I think, looking back on it, the very best romance novels that I love are all in one way or another completely crazy.  It’s just they’re kind of crazy in a brilliant way.

This led us into a whole discussion of, as Kwana put it, “the cray”.  It turns out that she often is on Twitter talking with people about ‘the crazy’ on TV, and the cray in some romance book everyone is suddenly reading.

When a book is kinda crazy, is the fantasy more obvious? Is that why it seems more woman friendly to me? Or is it a purely biological stimulus, where the sex centers and absurdist humor centers in my brain light up in unison–making me experience a neurological buzz.  Is a crazy hot romance novel the equivalent of romance crack?

As a result, I’ve decided to conduct a serious investigation. What is The Cray? Why does it works so well when it’s working, and what qualities does it have that light up my brain like a Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center?

So here’s to the cray — next week, I’ll be talking about crazy bridezillas I have known and loved, the television show Bridezillas, and my whack first novel Be My Bridezilla, which I’m sending out to the I DO, I DON’T call at Loose Id.

Stay tuned.

xxoo, M.