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By Joe Arney

Romance writers came into Christine Larson鈥檚 life at an inopportune moment.

As a graduate student at Stanford University and mother to two young children, Larson suddenly found herself navigating an unexpected and painful divorce鈥攁nd a resulting case of writer鈥檚 block that threatened her doctoral work in journalism. Suddenly, a woman who鈥檇 studied English at Princeton and enjoyed an impressive freelance career at The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal couldn鈥檛 find the words.

That鈥檚 when she learned about romance writers, said to be the only players making money in digital publishing. In fact, they were early adopters of self publishing their work digitally, having long been scorned by literary elites and New York publishing giants. That interested Larson, who before the tech wreck of the late 1990s reported on the first dot-com boom, even developing early websites for Reader鈥檚 Digest, 贵辞诲辞谤鈥檚 and others.

A few interviews to understand how these writers operated was just the turn she needed.

鈥淭hey were so inspiring,鈥� said Larson, an assistant professor of journalism at the 麻豆免费版下载鈥檚 College of Media, Communication and Information. 鈥淟istening to how much they had overcome helped me forget that I was struggling with my own problems.

鈥淭he way these women鈥攁nd they were mostly women鈥攆ound ways to mentor and support each other was so inspiring that it became a seven-year-long project.鈥�

That project has culminated in Love in the Time of Self-Publishing: How Romance Writers Changed the Rules of Writing and Success, a new book due out June 4 from Princeton University Press. It鈥檚 not so much a love story about romance writers as it is a work about business and labor.

鈥淭he book is really about how if you want to be treated fairly as a worker in the gig economy, you need a united community that cares about and supports each other,鈥� Larson said.

A network that works

Romance writers, as underdogs of the publishing world, banded together to share resources, encouragement and advice鈥攁 form of mentorship eschewed by writers who were more actively courted by publishers. The dirty little secret is that for decades, romance has been the cash cow that鈥檚 allowed publishers to take risks on more literary projects. Visit any e-bookstore today and you鈥檙e likely to see self-published romance novels occupying half the bestseller spots.

The relationships romance writers forged among themselves were key to their success when they were derided by the publishing industry. As the internet took shape in the mid-鈥�90s, these writers collectively turned to self publishing, selling their work as PDFs long before the Kindle hit the scene.

鈥淭hat ethic of care and support helped romance writers flourish, but if you want that, you have to treat everyone in your community fairly,鈥� she said. 鈥淭hat becomes a big deal when you have giant companies like Amazon and Uber trying to exploit you.

鈥淭hese authors are the bellwether of the gig economy鈥攖hey were insecure, precarious workers long before that became what we all do for a living. It鈥檚 an important labor story.鈥�

It鈥檚 a lesson these writers learned the hard way. As social justice movements were gaining momentum across the country, the main association for romance writers struggled to be more inclusive of writers from underrepresented backgrounds, who wanted to tell stories that didn鈥檛 just feature straight white characters. The resulting controversy fractured Romance Writers of America, though its members continue to support each other and have built new networks within it.

And publishers, Larson notes in her book, have slowly begun to adapt, as well. Many have retired the mass-market paperback operations that published romance stories in favor of all-digital operations that have given a voice to new generations of writers.

鈥楢 happily ever after for everyone鈥�

While there is more to do, 鈥渢here is much more diversity now thanks to digital self publishing,鈥� Larson said. 鈥淏ig publishers are finally catching on to the value of stories that offer a happily ever after for everyone, whether that鈥檚 people of color, same-sex couples, whatever.鈥�

A 鈥渉appily ever after鈥� ending is clich茅 enough to be called 鈥淗EA鈥� in the romance community. And while that鈥檚 a common critique of the genre, Larson bristles at the idea that it鈥檚 not worthy of scholarly or public attention, pointing to speculative, or science, fiction鈥檚 penchant for helping readers explore different ways to live or different visions of the economy.

鈥淐ulturally, romance matters because of its revolutionary potential, its scope for imagination and because everyone deserves a happily ever after,鈥� she said, noting the rise of romances featuring historical figures, vampires and others. 鈥淧eople say romance is formulaic鈥攚ell, all stories are formulaic. We respond to patterns in a good story.鈥�

What about Larson鈥檚 own story? She鈥檚 living her own HEA moment right now鈥攈appily engaged, supporting her children through their college journeys and her new book. She鈥檚 also enjoying her service with the Op-Ed Project, which elevates the voices of underrepresented people in the media by teaching them to write commentary. It鈥檚 a project that might inform a future research thread.

鈥淟ately, I鈥檝e been thinking about ways we see underrepresented voices gain a greater audience and find new ways of expression, as well as how they鈥檝e suffered from the way the digital economy changes the cultural economy,鈥� she said. 鈥淚t鈥檚 certainly something we see in romance writing, and it鈥檚 something I鈥檇 like to study in opinion writing and commentary.鈥�