No, I’m not venting about my latest therapy session – that was the line that kicked off our sales meeting this week. While most people are focused on the holidays, family, gift buying, maybe vacations, we’re focused on sex.
See, publishing wrapped up the holiday season six months ago, when the big houses voted which titles would hit the bestseller list for Christmas. Sure, we’ll do our annual holiday party, but that’s always about the company flexing its earnings muscles – not about its employees, or god forbid their loved ones and families.
In reality, Christmas is supposed to be the last thing on our minds right now, our goal is to decide what’s most likely to hit the bestseller list next spring/summer, and the suits have decided that whatever it is, will be damn sexy.
As usual I just tried to make it through the meeting without rolling my eyes, and to distract myself I came up with ways to sex things up. Why should the fiction division have all the fun? Let me run a few ideas by you:
There’s Phyllis, from our crafts and hobbies division, maybe she could find a knitting expert for a DIY S&M title, who wouldn’t want to learn how to handcraft luxurious, cashmere handcuffs and matching blindfold?
Or Donald in travel, he could find someone to pull together a book on all the places in the U.S. people could have sex like their favorite characters, I think I heard hotels in Seattle are already cashing in on the 50 Shades craze.
And Jessica in health & fitness, she should know that nothing says sexy like naked couples yoga… and Beverly in cookbooks, someone should tell her we need an author willing to share tips on how to painlessly prepare a fried chicken meal for your man while wearing only a G-string.
I’m so over it. If a book doesn’t have the potential for a Bravo or E! spinoff it’s not worth our time. If women aren’t covering it up with a copy of Good Housekeeping in public the author will never be on a first-name basis with anyone in marketing.
Back in the glory days if the boss man came to me asking for more sex I could at least look forward to a nice night out on the town, maybe a pretty pair of earrings or silk scarf, à la Mad Men. Now when he asks for sex you’re in a room of worn-out corporate drones, eyes glazed over, racking their brains for the next ridiculous idea.